Back of Beyond - may 2006

I think it's fair to say that the fank left us bereft of vigour, hence the lack of blogging activities recently. However, the show must go on and we can't expect Arnish to soldier on alone forever.

I'm just back from another trip to the mainland, but this time there was no epic car journey and no trips to nasty big supermarkets. When we arrived in Ullapool on Saturday my daughter was completely flabbergasted to find we were going no further. In her world going to the mainland involves being yanked from her bed at some unearthly hour, forced not only to sit in the observation lounge on the boat, but also to endure a breakfast of unheated croissants and pain au chocolats because mum and dad are too tight to buy anything from the cafe. This is always followed by a car journey of at least five hours, sandwiched between her belligerent brothers. Hard to see why she doesn't enjoy it really.

This time though, Ullapool was the target, because it was having a book festival, from Friday to Sunday, only the second such event, but featuring some very well known authors nonetheless. After a quick wash in the Somerfield toilets (ok, just one supermarket, but it wasn't very big), the kids and I were abandoned by my husband who had a work event to attend in Assynt, intending to fill our day by:

1. Going to see Mairi Hedderwick
2. Having a picnic (yet more money saved, heh,heh..)
3. Going swimming
4. Bribing kids with ice-cream to let Mummy have peace to browse the bookshops (Ullapool has 2)
5. Going on the bus to the Inchnadamph Field Centre where we were staying (and where Daddy had better have a cold beer waiting or he's being traded in at the Fank 2007!)

Ullapool was gloriously warm and leafy and shone in the spring sunshine as we made our haphazard way to the High School where the Mairi Hedderwick event was to be held, the buggy stuffed with the winter coats, hats and wellies which had seemed so necessary when packing the night before. The kids trailed along, sweating in the thick fleeces I had insisted they wore and were constantly passed by springy summer children in bright skimpy clothes, at whom they directed dagger looks. I was vindicated however, when, in the course of the session, Mairi Hedderwick referred to Katie Morag's wellies, and how she wore them winter and summer, as you just never know on an island, and anyway what could be more comfortable. This is true, heck, I even know an islander who took his wellies and waterproof trousers to New York, just in case.

The kids loved the talk, which was excellent, for children and adults alike; they got their books signed, and the little one even got a shot of the real Tiresome Ted, which was great as only minutes previously he had remembered that his own beloved Leffie was in the car with Daddy and therefore not available for emergency cuddles all day, and so the wobbly moment was avoided.

After our picnic we headed for the swimming pool, anticipating with delight the plunge into cold water, for by that time we were really getting quite frazzled. It came as a bit of a surprise when we were denied access, on the grounds that my 2 year old and my 6 year old needed an adult each to supervise them. As I was on my own, this was impossible and it was a quiet street, so grabbing someone off it was a bit of a long shot. Leaving in high dudgeon, I decided I shouldn't like to be a single parent in Ullapool.

Moving straight on to the bribery, the rest of the afternoon passed off reasonably well and soon we were on the silver bus to Inchnadamph, passing through the most splendid of scenery, all of which my older son missed, being as he was sound asleep, except for the times that he woke himself up falling off his seat. Beer was supplied as requested, and we lounged around on the grass outside, enjoying the balmy evening. I have only just finished pulling the ticks out of everyone. I think I've got them all now.

The next day I went on my own to hear Andrew Greig read from his new book, which, unpromisingly is about golf. However I greatly admire his novels, apart from a petty little grudge regarding certain female characters, and decided to go anyway. The Ceilidh Place Clubhouse, where it was held, is quite a small room, and it was packed, requiring a lot of fussing about procuring extra seats, but eventually it got started, and I knew immediately that I'd been right. The excerpts that he read were honest, funny and moving and the conversations that followed revealed a highly intelligent, thoughtful man with a sizeable dollop of guid Scots humour thrown in. It was a fascinating hour, and at the end the audience were invited to ask questions. As is traditional in these situations, everyone immediately found the floor immensely interesting, until at last a brave soul spoke up, thanking Andrew Greig for giving so much of himself in his work, which allowed him (the speaker) to 'embody' it. Of course no-one had a clue what he was talking about, but we all heartily agreed with him. Several more questions followed, until I became overwhelmed by the desire to ask one myself. The trouble was, I couldn't think of one, a bit of a problem since my hand was already in the air, drawing everyone's attention. Mortified, I gabbled out an incoherent question regarding writing about Scotland whilst living elsewhere, which was not at all what I meant to ask, and quite obviously baffled both the author and everyone else in the room with its stupidity. It was the last question of the session, and as I beat a hasty retreat I resolved sit on my hands next time.

All in all, it seems the book festival was a great success with the numbers up three times on last year; we certainly enjoyed our events. It would be good if there were more children's sessions (then we wouldn't even have to go near the beastly swimming pool), but I'm sure next year's will be even bigger and better, allowing this and many other good things to happen. It occurs to me that this is all a bit mainland based for island blogging, but then I realised that both the authors I saw are islanders themselves, and there were others in the programme too, that I didn't manage to catch up with. Ah well, maybe next year, post Fank stress allowing.

Over to you, Arnish.

Paddling in the sea
Bare feet and woolly hat
Life doesn't get
Much better than that.

Tonight's posting is sponsored by Lanson champagne (it's all the A-list will drink, apparently), as I am celebrating the arrival of my nephew Cillian, born in Cork by Caesarean section this morning and weighing in at a hefty 10lbs 4oz. Many congratulations to my brother Colin and sister-in-law Claire, who I'm sure is glad that, like me, she is too posh to push.

Slainte!